Perfect
by sasherxcopy
Summary: He couldn’t stop the occasional daydream of her in a white dress, with her radish earrings in her ears and a bouquet of big sunflowers. NLLL.


**Disclaimer: I own this plot. JKR only owns Harry Potter.**

**Perfect.**

Luna Lovegood had never been in a war before. She had never even been in a duel, outside Dumbledore's Army practices. Luna thought herself a fair fighter, although she never had considered herself one. She was moreover a lover, which was something she wanted to protect. Love, that is, and the ones of which it applied.

Luna made others feel out of place, because she was wrapped up in her own world. If anything, though, she felt out of place. Because of this, when she found something that fit, she stood for it. She lived for it, and would die for it.

This quality, if ever hard to come by, was bestowed on a man of the same age.

Neville Longbottom had never taken a liking to fighting. While a brilliant herbologist, he was very adequate at defensive spells and jinxes. He was starting to accept the Gryffindor courage that he had, up until this point, forgotten and doubted. Gran said he had grown so much more like his father, with the heart of his mother. Surging with pride he accepted those words, and tried to live up to them.

He hadn't expected himself, the clumsy, forgetful, seventeen-year-old, to take a stand, to defy the Carrows', but in critical times, you do things that you know you shouldn't, because you know they are right. Then again, you can always harness yourself, barricade your true feelings, and tell yourself that standing would take too much effort. That defying anything could only hurt.

But under rule of such things, was there anything but hurt that could arise? Certainly no joy would come of these rules. Not love. Not sympathy or compassion. They rule with iron-clad hearts and wands at the ready. They hurt with smiles and feel with only slight emotion, sure to at least look impassive.

Neville hadn't expected himself to wind up in the Room of Requirements, over a brutally bruised Luna, either. She was sleeping, or unconscious, and he was hoping that it wasn't the latter, as he had no nursing experience. It was times like this when you really miss, and appreciate, Madam Pomfrey.

Luna would stir every few minutes, relieving him from the stupor he had settled within between these momentary movements. She looked sad and deeply scathed, if possible in ones sleep, as if the scares went deeper than skin. Her lip, busted and bleeding, where he had tried to wipe the blood away, only to return and find it replenished. Her blonde and wispy hair in disarray, little pieces from her fringe littering her brow. The absence of the poring blue orbs, her eyes, made it harder to believe that this was actually Luna. That something like this could actually happen to a girl like her, so carefree and limitless.

Neville tried his hardest to detach himself from the situation. That this was just another girl hurt in the brutality of the Carrows' rule. As to keep from over-stressing and losing his head before she woke. When she did wake, then she would be Luna Lovegood again. The bright and lighthearted Luna Lovegood. She would be his friends again. More than that, he tried to think, but he couldn't allow himself to go as far as make those kinds of plans, especially since she hadn't even woken yet.

But goodness, did he want to be more than friends with Luna. He couldn't stop the occasional daydream of her in a white dress, with her radish earrings in her ears and a bouquet of big sunflowers. But he awoke with an ache in his heart and couldn't get rid of the happiness just the thought provided him with. But this was war time, you can't go around imagining your wedding day; you don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow.

But Luna seemed the only person who could fully understand his social awkwardness. Even though he was thought of as something resembling a hero, it didn't change his hermit ways. Luna not only seemed to accept them, but to embrace them, as nobody else had.

Well, besides maybe Harry, Hermione, and Ron. But he didn't even know where they where now. Probably on some escapade that has something to do with Voldemort, well, hopefully. He was incredibly worried when they where not on the Hogwarts Express earlier that year, but had gradually gotten used to their nonattendance. He had tried to get Dumbledore's Army back together, and Luna and Ginny did, also, but it was too risky now. He didn't mind chancing himself, but wouldn't dare chance others, too. Particularly the two good friends he had left.

He had had his fair share of punishment from the Carrows'. One particularly memorable detention (for when he had been caught writing "Dumbledore's Army, still recruiting" in graffiti on the corridor wall) consisted of trudging cinderblocks across the hill and onto the bridge then dumping them into the lake, as to scare the merpeople away (as they had started a revolt, too). His back ached for days and the bruises on his knuckles and toes have yet to become undistinguished. On the bright side, he believed he caught a glimpse of the Giant Squid.

As hard as the remaining professors tried, they could not save everyone from such terrible fate. Flitwick and McGonagall had tried scheduling detentions to students at the same times as they had detention with the Carrows' but where soon found out by the newly reinstated "prefects". Prefect where now sons and daughters of Death Eaters that Voldemort found specifically useful. They where rewarded for their parents efforts with a gleaming silver badge. They where also allowed to give detentions and take points, resulting in Gryffindors negative point count, the rubies that had once been copious, nonexistent. However, the Slytherin emerald-filled hourglass was so full that it had to be enlarged.

Luna stirred once again, forcing Neville to emerge from his thoughts. Her eyes opened slightly, only to fall closed absently. Although it had only been around an hour he missed Luna's piercing gaze. It was so uncommon to be around her without her eyes finding yours. Especially when you talked, her eyes never left the person speaking. Her chest heaved higher and Neville found her pulse on her neck. It was returning to normal pace. Neville kept his fingers on her cold skin for awhile, hoping to spread some warmth to her.

Then he shook his head to himself, this was the Room of Requirements. He thought of a crisp warm down comforter, and one appeared before him. He wrapped it around Luna, she stirred, and her eyes opened slightly.

"Neville?" she breathed, the softest of whispers.

"Yes, love." He whispered back, tucking in the blanket around her.

"Is everything okay?" she mumbled, obviously tired, but seeking information.

"Everything," Neville said as he brought his face up to hers, glad to see the blue orbs return, pressed his lips to her forehead. He felt the contrast of his warmth on her cool flesh. Luna noticed, too, and it sent shivers down her back. Neville smile to himself. "…is perfect."

**A/N They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Written to Warm Where You Lay by The Rosebuds. Thanks for reading and please review. **


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